#Aydin Olasee

[aly-the-writer]

Look who decided to wear a uniform for once.

[aly-the-writer]

*silently looks at Dak*

[aly-the-writer]

Was going through my character pics and decided to post some that I like.

[aly-the-writer]

Lost One

Ao3 | More Dak Izma | More Aydin Olasee

Vector’s lips were drawn into a tight grimace as they picked their way through yet another burnt out settlement. The Empire was not kind to its conquered worlds, both of them weren’t foolish enough to believe that it was, but the burn out husks and the charred corpses of the fourth village they had trialed this group to was sickening.

“Agent, we are uncertain it is wise to continue this course of action,” Vector murmured as he crouched to turn over a woman, the laser-cut of a light saber slashed down her front and provided a clear cause of death. “Your aura spikes are becoming increasingly distressed.”

“I’m sure yours are as well,” the Mirialan sighed, turning his crimson colored eyes skyward. “If you wish to return to the ship you may, Vector…I need to be certain.”

The Joiner’s fathomless eyes studied him quietly, the diplomat considering the options. “We do not believe that the answer you find will help.”

He tried a smile for his friend – Vector was the only one on the crew he’d ever thought to give that particular title to – though he knew that the exhausted, drained expression he wore was closer to showing how dangerous his heart was to breaking than he would ever have wanted. “Yeah, you’re probably right, but…I have to know.”

Vector nodded, “We would not leave you here in this alone, let us continue.”

The two men continued through the ravished settlement in silence, reaching the edge of the town and continuing to follow the tracks left by those responsible for this destruction.

The word had come through the grapevine of informants that the agent had managed to establish – the Imperial Guard had shuttled a young Sith to the planet under heavy guard as if it were meant to be secret. He’d already tracked two of the Jedi Strike team down as operating within the Imperial structure now, but in the months since the Hero of Tython had vanished there’d been nothing on the youngest member of the strike team.

No interrogation records. No sightings. No gloating reports of the young Jedi’s death.

No new pale Zabrak acolytes on Korriban.

Not a damn thing to indicate where in the damn galaxy Dak Izma was.

Not since the message that had appeared across their encrypted line from the man himself:

I don’t have time or privacy to call, but I had to talk to you anyways. I have a bad feeling.

I know the Force stuff is just a bunch of wild nonsense to you – very dangerous nonsense – but still just nonsense. This still feels like one of those feelings…so I had to tell you some things before it was too late.

I don’t know what’s wrong, but I know there’s something happening with you, and I’d hoped I could help you before now but I’ve run out of time, we’re about to jump to hyperspace. To the Emperor’s fortress. Damn it, there’s too much to say.

I hope this isn’t goodbye but I don’t have any delusions here, probably going to die. Since this is most likely goodbye…just:

Aydin – I love you. Thank you.

There was a very real possibility that Dak was already dead when Aydin had read the goodbye, but it was a possibility the Agent was refusing to face. If the Jedi was truly lost then he wasn’t sure if he could convince himself that there was a point to what he was doing.

“Agent,” Vector’s voice was a soft warning as they crept to the top of an outcropping.

Movement ahead, through his macrobinoculars he watched crimson armored soldiers were executing the few remaining civilians by firing squad – their screams and the sound of blaster fire making bile rise in the back of his throat.

A figure dressed in dark armor and robes with a hood drawn over their face was stalking away, two red lightsabers activated as he hunted something. Two red skinned Purebloods watched the shorter figure as they set off. One seemed interested in what had caused the hooded figure’s movement while the other just seemed bored and annoyed as if his having to supervise this massacre was a bother.

“Get back to the ship,” he murmured to Vector. He waited for the Joiner to obey before he activated his stealth generator and crept down towards the village.

He was careful to skirt around where the Imperial Guardsmen were finishing their executions and to avoid the Purebloods – one looked unsettlingly like the images he had seen of the Emperor’s Wrath – to fall into the hooded figure’s wake.

Once out of sight of the others though the Sith deactivated the blades, instead turning their shadowed face around, as if looking for something.

By the time that Aydin realized that he’d been detected it was too late, the Sith had force pushed him into the side of the building, leaving him dazed and unstealthed. He might’ve slid straight into the mud if the crushing pressure wasn’t pinning him upright.

The figure advanced, head tilted to the side. He was allowed to drop to his knees as the figure approached, the hood being pushed back while he advanced. Still the pressure from the Force continued, his arms pinned and his legs unable to work. The grip on his throat had lessened considerably though, spots were no longer dancing in his vision as his chest heaved a little with the effort of getting breath back into his lungs.

Pale skin, with subtle geometric tattoos and long blond hair brushed around his horns. His eyes caught on the blood red orbs that studied him with confusion and interest, they were a few shades brighter than Aydin’s own naturally crimson eyes.

The Zabrak crouched, fingers trailing over his face gently – in an almost confused manner. The expression so hurt and lost that Aydin wasn’t sure what to say – even as he felt himself go utterly still at the touch. His love’s hands had been the ones to leave the light saber wounds on so many of the villagers…

“Aydin, what are you doing here?” he murmured softly. A shy thumb tracing over the triangle of diamonds under his left eye. The expression he was wearing like he was surprised to find that the man was real.

“Came looking for you, Dak. You couldn’t think I’d really leave it at that while you’re still breathing – did you? Give me some credit, please.”

The Jed – was he really still Jedi at this point? - seemed caught off guard by the statement and the smile the agent was presenting him. Confusion and fear ticking by before he turned his head towards where the Purebloods were, doubtlessly the ones that held whatever leash that had been slipped around the knight’s neck to drag him down into the darkness.

Whatever the decision he made then was Dak’s fingers twined into Aydin’s hair, pulling his head back to a slight angle before he kissed the Mirialan. It wasn’t the way Dak usually kissed, this one was blistering, full of hunger and the desire to possess (not that Dak lacked passion in his usual behavior but he’d never been fond of using his teeth before).

When the Jedi-turned-Sith pulled back he ran his fingers gently through the Mirialan’s hair. “You are mine, Aydin Olasee.”

He stood, drawing his hood back up as the pressure released around Aydin.

“Go. The others will kill you if they find you.”

“Dak,” he tried – only to be met with a glare from beneath the hood. He could get the Jedi free, get them to Tython, the Council could surely fix whatever had his boyfriend’s eyes the color they were.

“Go, the Emperor will know what you mean to me and…” The expression of helpless sorrow that played across the Zabrak’s face in the shadows was too familiar – Dak was trapped, not by brainwashing and neural programming but something to do with that Force bullshit that was the bread and butter of the Jedi and Sith. “I can’t lose you, Aydin. Please.”

The spy nodded, but grabbed the Jedi’s wrist, dragging him back to kiss him again. “I love you, Dak. Stay strong.”

With that he reactivated his stealth field and began his trek back to the ship - he had to go before his desire to try and rescue the other won out over the bone-deep knowledge that it was impossible to do so as things stood.

He just prayed that Kaliyo had something strong enough stashed away to help him forget what the Empire was twisting the man he loved into - at least for a little bit.

[aly-the-writer]

♦ Introducing their romantic interest (or best friend) to a food specific to their home planet. Tusin/Theron and Dak/Aydin

Alrighty, posting Tusin’s and Theron’s separately just because. (It’s going in my queue, will show up on tumblr sometime but it’s already up on Ao3 now.)

So here we have Dak and Aydin on vacation on Rishi.

Dak was stretched out on the beachunder an umbrella. The pirates that might’ve usually hassled the short, paleskinned Zabrak had decided that anyone carrying a lightsaber (let alone two)wasn’t worth their effort.

Aydin loved Rishi, he always had –Raider’s Cove was home in a way that Nar Shaddaa and Dromund Kaas had neverbeen. Even with his parents and most their crew gone (the Nova Blades had beenquick to drive out the remnants of the rival gang when his parents’ ships hadbeen destroyed) this place was still home. Plus he was really enjoying visitingit with his boyfriend.

Dak had ditched his usual clothesin favor for lighter clothes – or specifically a pair of bright blueswim-trunks. Since he wasn’t looking as red as Lord Scourge he must’ve put onsome sort of sun protection. A number of scars were visible – wounds from hisrole as a warrior of the Republic. He knew the stories for most of them.

Away from the battlefield Aydinadored the way that Dak’s skin showed very bruise. It meant that the love biteshe’d left the night before were readily visible (on his own green skins bruiseslooked brown-black, not nearly as attractive) – a point of pride for theMirialan as he carried over the drinks and a basket of food.

Crossing his legs on the blanket hekicked his own shoes off, to relax.

“Why haven’t we done this before?”Dak asked, cracking open one of his bright green eyes to watch Aydin settle beforesitting up.

“We both have a compulsive need tostop idiots from destroying planets in their attempts to upset the order of theuniverse,” Aydin pointed out, leaning over to kiss the other man.

“We should really stop doing thatsometime,” the Zabrak was sitting up more comfortably now – accepting his drinkfrom Aydin and sipping on it as he studied the basket of various fried andbreaded items.

“Lunch,” Aydin grinned picking outone of the objects with a pair of chopsticks and holding it to Dak’s lips. “Youtrust me don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” the Jedi replied butobediently ate the piece anyways. A slightly puzzled expression crossing his faceas he considered what he was tasting. The breading itself was tasty – a littlesalty and with a slight bite to it that gave it a bit of spice – while the meatwas more delicate, but it wasn’t something he could place.

Aydin meanwhile was grinning as heate his own.

“Okay, that was good but what areyou feeding me – and it better not have been sentient.”

“Hey now, unlike you, I was never aRed Hulls!” the spy gasped, placing a hand over his heart. (Never mind he’dnever even heard of the Red Hullsuntil one of the Rishii had mistaken his boyfriend for one of the supposedlycannibalistic pirates.) His red eyes playful as he answered the question: “Alsoit’s mud crab – the locals catch the smaller ones for food. The red breadingare spicy grophet nuggets and the lighter brown ones are tronitran.”

Dak snorted, before reaching overto try one of the grophet nuggets, humming appreciatively. It was always niceto have someone who knew the cuisine pick out what to eat.

“Although it’d be hard for you todeny your appetite for sentient fleshafter last night,” Aydin added, timing the comment for while Dak had his mouth fullso when the Jedi laughed he choked, coughed, and gave him a scowl with wateringeyes before punching him lightly in the arm.

“Dick.”

“Exactly.”

[aly-the-writer]

☯ Aydin/Dak -snicker-

“That’s not how the Force works!”

Aydin Olasee is my Mirialan Imperial Agent. Dak’s my Zabrak Jedi Knight.

This is set after the class missions on Nar Shaddaa, with these two attempting to avoid the fallout thereof.

Dak Izma placed a hand on his forehead,leaning against the bar, his drink half empty as he tried not to think. Getting drunk in the Slippery Slopes was probably notthe best coping mechanism for dealing with his failure regarding Agent Galenbut he’d never been a good Jedi – meditating his feelings away wasn’t going tohelp and going out looking for a fight to burn off the agitated energy thatcame with the frustration – he should have been able to do something – was even less so.

“I think you must’ve mind-trickedme already because you’re the handsomest man in the room,” the accent wasImperial which got his defenses up immediately as he turned to face thespeaker, not quite sure what to expect.

A man looking for a fight with aJedi probably wouldn’t have chosen to open with a truly terrible pick-up line,but he still tensed for a fight anyways as he turned to look at who had spoken.

The speaker wasn’t what he’dexpected hearing the voice either. He’d thought to turn and face a human in acrisp Imperial uniform. Instead he was looking up into a pair of amused brightred eyes, framed by patterns of diamond shaped black tattoos that stood outagainst the warm green of the man’s skin tone.

Mirialan. And very handsome.

“That’s not how the Force works,” theblond haired Zabrak scowled, turning back towards the bar.

The reply earned him a laugh andthe other alien flagged down the bartender, ordering himself a drink andgetting Dak another as well.

“I’m Aydin,” he grinned, eyestrailing over Dak. “What’s your name Master Handsome-but-Grumpy Jedi?”

For a moment he considered tellingthe other to get lost – it’d been a long day and a part of him had wanted tokeep sulkingly considering what his life would be like if he wasn’t a Jedi –but the prospect of a distraction was welcome so despite himself he permittedhimself to try a smile:

“It’s just ‘Dak’ tonight.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that you’reever ‘just’ anything, Dak,” Aydin smiled, picking up his glass. “To nights off fromimpossible jobs?”

“Especially those with handsomecompany,” the Jedi replied, raising his glass in return.

[aly-the-writer]

☂ for Claribel ♟ for Aydin

Hello Nonnie! :D I got the stories you requested, although, Aydin is apparently worse at the “friendly” thing than I thought.

Despite my claims that Tusin is myusual Outlander both your requests ended up being written with someone else inthat role. For the first one Clari is the Outlander, inthe second one Jedi Knight Dak Izma (Aydin’s boyfriend) is.

Without further ado I give you “An Idiot’s Array” and “Arcere”.

☂ for Claribel

An Idiot’s Array

“Captain, you’re sulking,” Lanasighed, trying not to pinch the bridge of her nose again that day. With Koth’s crew workingon the Gravestone things were looking better around the place – or at least thelights no longer flickered wildly and the Captain wasn’t compulsively checkingon the life support systems every hour.

The Sith had every faithin Koth’s abilities and that of his crew.

“I am not,” she huffed at Lana beforegrimacing and inputting which deck she was going to into the elevator controls,“Okay, maybe I am – a little.”

“What is on your mind?”

“Besides Valkorian?” she joked justas the lift ground to halt and the lights flickered ominously. “Uh…thelift isn’t supposed to do that, right?”

Lana frowned andtapped her com, “Koth, there’s something wrong with the lift to the hangar bay.”

“Yeah, uh, aboutthat. We were rerouting power and we seem to have cut it off somehow.”

“’We’?” Tora’s voicescoffed in the background.

“How long’s it gonnabe, Koth?” Claribel asked.

“And don’t say three minutes,” Lana added.

The smuggler laughedat that, sitting down to lean against the wall – a ship this big, especiallyone without a handy manual from its builders, it would be a while. Anotherreason to miss her Blurrg – she knewevery circuit on that stupid ship.

“Don’t know, but we’llwork on getting you out of there soon as we can,” the naval captain was saying.“Hang tight.”

If Lana were anyoneelse but the ever composed Sith Lord that she was she might’ve groaned. Insteadshe glanced at the Captain who was busy searching the multitude of pockets onher vest for something.

“Here we are!” shegrinned, pulling out two dried pallie bars and passing one to Lana.

The Sith eyed the food,“This wasn’t in carbonite with you was it?”

“What? Noooo, I atethose before we got to Asylum,” she snorted. “I restocked when I was outlooking for Tora.”

Lana sat down acrossfrom her, unwrapping the snack bar. It was a childish sort of treat, overlysweet but the smuggler didn’t care much for subtle flavors so that was to beexpected. “You are bothered by having Valkorian in your mind, aren’t you?”

The smuggler scowleda little, “You know, when people deflect with jokes you’re supposed to letthem. That’s the polite thing to do, Lanaaa,” she drew the name out teasinglybefore taking a bite of her snack.  “I’ma smuggler, I’m supposed to be annoying Hutts and cheating folk out of theirmoney at the Sabacc table not the galaxy’s last hope of salvation. I never wanted to be depended on, I didn’twant to get trapped being the only one who stood between hundreds of peopleliving or dying.”

Lana studied heragain: “You involved yourself in a lot for someone who doesn’t care.”

“Never said I don’tcare,” she grumbled, propping her knee up. “Just don’t want the responsibility.If I did I wouldn’t have run off when I worked out that I was being groomed tobe a Cipher and what that meant.”

“You don’t talk muchabout your Imperial background,” Lana murmured – it was only after Yavin she’d discovered thatClaribel had Imperial connections. Had she not spent her days in SithIntelligence working closely with the woman’s father – the infamous Cipher Two –she may not have believed it.

She gave a slightshrug, “Not much to say. I didn’t want the life so I smuggled myself to Huttspace and used the skills I’d been taught to disappear. Got some blasters,stole a ship, crashed it, made a lot of really stupid decisions, bought the Blurrg, and the rest you should know. I’mjust a gal that got lucky with my gun and unlucky with where I was. You want tosave the galaxy you get a Jedi, not a spice-runner.”

Lana tried not tolaugh – the ridiculousness of the statement, “Clari, you can’t really believe that, can you?”

Seeing the greeneyes looking thoroughly unimpressed with her.

“Force preserve me,”she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She’d seen the signs of thesedoubts on Zakuul but the revelation about Valkorian being in residence in thesmuggler’s mind had distracted her. “You realize you already have saved the galaxy? Or at leastthousands of lives. On a number of occasions?”

Green eyes narrowedat her.

“The pirate fleet forCorellia, the battle over Rishi, and Yavin.”

“Didn’t save anyoneon Ziost.”

“There were Jedi onZiost who failed as well,” Lana countered. “Clari – you can do this.”

The brown hairedsmuggler opened her mouth to refute the statement but the lift hummed intomovement again. The door opening to an apologetic looking Koth.

“You two okay?” heasked them.

“We’re good,”Claribel nodded before looking to Lana as she got to her feet. She glanced atKoth then back to Lana, “I know thereare people who could do a better job of saving the galaxy, Lana, but you’ve gotme so, I guess, we’re going for an Idiot’s Array.”

Without giving time forLana to answer or to explain the statement to the confused looking Koth theCaptain vanished around a corner, probably making for the market or cantina totry and get information on her oldcontacts and see if she could get messages out to her former crew.

♟ for Aydin 

Arcere

The footstepsapproaching drew him out of his meditation, at first he thought it might beSenya but there was no Force signature to indicate the approaching individualwas his mother or any of the Jedi or Sith that the Commander had drawn to hiscause.

Even with the threatof Zakuul removed by his claiming the Eternal Throne many of Dak Izma’s powerfulallies had opted to remain with the Alliance rather than return to theirrespective factions in the outlanders’ ongoing war between Republic and Empire.

The silent strangersettled down across from him, a long jacket or robe brushing the ground withthe movement.

He hadn’t sensed any danger from the stranger, whichwasn’t as comforting as it might have been when he opened his eyes to find aMirialan turning a vibroknife over in his hand, bright red eyes pensive. Withthat species it was possible the red eyes were natural not the influence of thedark side but knowing who this wasdidn’t assuage any more fear than the lack of bloodlust directed at him had.

If he had to guessthis was Aydin Olasee.

The man wassomething of a mystery, though his name signed off a large number of reportsdelivered to Lana and Theron, he was rarely at the base for long in the past.Something that he’d overheard Lana apologize to the Commander about…

“We haven’t beenintroduced,” the accent was the clipped tones of the Imperial capital. Thesmile was friendly – too friendly. “Youare Arcann, are you not?”

“You already know the answer tothat,” he replied – keeping his eyes on the blade.

The spy gave a softsnort, “Well, maybe. I’m called Aydin.”

Arcann glancedaround, outside here was the grassy area where the Commander’s personalstarship usually sat but was currently absent. Other than the Jedi Master ValirekSilver, seeking the same sort of solitude he had come out here for, it was rareto see anyone out here without them having a specific task to carry out. Rightnow no one was about besides the two of them.

He thought he caughta flash of red in the doorway – Theron making sure no one was being murdered?That seemed…unlikely given the Republic spy’s feelings towards him.

“I asked about you – Val claimsthat you have ‘healed yourself of your suffering’, Caderasays you saved him from Vaylin, Dak tells me that he rather haveyou where he can watch you while you atone, Lana thinks you’re useful. Therongave me a non-answer, which is practically spy speak for ‘I don’t know’, or he’sstill annoyed about the time I sliced his mail to send Hylo and Oggurobb lovepoetry. Not really sure which.”

“I there a reasonyou are talking to me?”

“I came out to see ifI needed to kill you because I don’t know you and considering what you’ve done,who you were I don’t like the idea ofyou at Dak’s back.” All the faux-friendliness dropped and with it Arcann finallyfelt he presence of a potentially murderous intent.

He looked away –considering what he’d done to the Alliance, to the Core Worlds he had no rightto even desire trust. Still there was something different about this threatthan the others that had been laid before him.

“You are verydevoted to the Commander.”

A soft laugh andglimpse at what lay behind the façade vanished beneath another lazily friendlysmile, “That would be a way of phrasing it, I suppose.”

“I am watchedalready, Master Spy. Your Commander has chosen to trust me for now, that is allthe assurance I can think to offer.”

“Trust me, Dak’s trust not going to help you winany confidence,” the spy drawled. “Between dating an Imperial Spy andrecruiting your father’s personal butcher Dak had disqualified himself from everbeing considered for any measure of good judgement long before you decided tocause problems.”

Arcann frowned – notsure what this man wanted.

Aydin switched whichhand held the knife lazily watching, studying him. “Do you remember them?”

“Who?” the inquirywas guarded.

“The innocent ones –the ones you couldn’t rationalize but killed anyways because that what wasexpected, what had to be done. The hope of approval, orders, expectations,whatever pressure pushed you to do it.”

Arcann grimaced andlooked away from those red eyes suddenly too like the color of blood, thinkingof the five worlds that he had allowed Vaylin to bombard, “I can’t rememberthem all – there are too many.”

“And redemption?”

“Impossible. Not forwhat I’ve done.”

“Huh,” the noise soundedalmost impressed, the Mirialan watching him with a curious expression.

His brows furrowed –unsure how to respond to that, some in the Alliance had promised him redemptionwas possible, others claimed that nothing he did could help and that theCommander should have killed him.

“You’re not what Iexpected,” the spy confessed after a moment before he sheathed the vibroknifeinto his jacket. “Although if you were anything like what I expected I wasgoing to shoot you, so there’s that.” Propping his knee up a bit he leaned hiselbow against it and set his chin in his palm.

“Do you usually tellpeople when you’ve planned to murder them?”

“Only about half thetime,” he grinned brightly. “And planningis hardly the same as trying. If I was going to actually kill you I’d have waiteduntil Dak was around. You’re a powerful Force user, I’m not a sniper so I’dneed help or a lot more motivationthan ‘you ran my boyfriend through after locking him in carbonite’.”

Despite himselfArcann laughed – the motivation given was plenty of reason but something else entirely had changed the Mirialan’smind. “Do you tell lies to everyone?”

The Mirialan grinnedbrightly, “Almost everyone, yes. Never Dak. Not usually my friends.” He hoppedto his feet in a smooth motion before adding: “Maybe try smiling more often?People will think you still want to kill them you go around with that grimexpression of yours all the time.”

[aly-the-writer]

As part of the holidays and because I’m avoiding reading anything online until I see TLJ I’m going to be doing a daily (or close to daily) fluffy drabble whose whole point is to make me smile.

Starting us off is some crew antics with my Imperial Agent, Aydin Olasee.

“Hey there agent,” Kaliyo’s threw herself onto the lounge – and across his lap – making him have to lift up his caff to avoid it becoming a casualty of her antics.

“Kaliyo,” he greeted. He’d never been sure of the Rattataki – they weren’t enemies but they weren’t quite friends either.

“You still doing reports?” she asked, reaching out to snatch the datapad he’d been working on from his hand and read it. “Huh – this Bugboy’s?”

“No, it’s not Vector’s. Will you give it back?” he huffed, going to grab it but the Taki rolled away, laughing. Damn it, she was happy-drunk, which meant –

“’Might I linger between the stars, so to love you from afar?’” she giggled as she read it. “Aw, c’mon, agent. What’s this all about?”

Lokin had peaked out of the infirmary door, probably to make sure that it was whatever poison she had in her responsible for the Taki’s mirth rather than someone getting injured – again. He watched the pair of younger aliens with an amused expression as they danced around the cabin, the agent wanted the datapad back but he wasn’t trying very hard.

“Oh, what’s this?” he asked.

“The agent’s got some kind of sappy poetry. I’m trying to figure out who it’s from,” Kaliyo smirked.

“I believe the agent finds writing to be relaxing,” Lokin commented - every agent had their hobby, something to fill the long hours of a stakeout or to give them a sense of identity in a world where they couldn’t have just one.

He’d noticed Aydin would jot snatches of words down while waiting for shuttles as early as his watching on Taris. Quiet times while in hyperspace were often spent sat writing – he’d at first assumed that the agent was very thorough it hadn’t been until he’d broken into the loose security on the datapad – really the encryption was child’s play – to find it filled with poems or snatches of stories.

“Wait, this is you? What else you got on here?” Kaliyo cackled. At that moment the Cipher launched himself headlong at the Rattataki, sending them both sprawling to the floor and the datapad skittering down the hall where it bumped into Vector’s foot.

The Joiner seemed amused as he picked it up, “We believe this is yours, Agent?”

“Yes, Vector, thank you.” The Mirialan gritted out as Kaliyo pinned him to the floor, one of his arms twisted up behind his back. It wasn’t a real tussle – the Cipher had certainly broken out of better holds in the past.

The Joiner observed the match with dark eyes before he turned his gaze on the datapad, “We do not think this is bad – your friend would like it very much if you were to show him. Though we suggest that you do not compare the eyes to that no matter how similar in color they might be.”

“Everyone’s a critic.”

[aly-the-writer]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Male Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine/Male Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython Characters: Male Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine, Lana Beniko, Original Character Additional Tags: During the 5 year Gap, Dak as Outlander, Zakuul, Forming the Alliance Series: Part 1 of Whispered Truths Summary:

It's been nearly five years since the Hero of Tython was killed when Darth Marr's vessel was destroyed. During that time the former Cipher Nine, Aydin Olasee, has had to learn how to come to terms with a life without the Jedi and in a world where everything changed.

That is until Lana Beniko returns to his life with an invitation, of a sort.

[aly-the-writer]

“Kurshi”

Another Black Dogs Squad story with Atin and Aydin. This one is linked with the earlier one Red & Green and was written almost entirely because I couldn’t get the image of Aydin making a tree pun out of my head.

“...hey, Kurshi can I ask you something?,” she glanced over to where the Mirialan was behind a datapad he’d propped up so he could read it while laying his head on his arm that was in turn stretched out across the width of the table.

“Hm?” he didn’t look up, mostly distracted with trying to tackle the material in the assignment. A lot of the reading was stuff she’d read before, but for the green skinned alien Imperial protocol was all new and something he’d been struggling under.

“You’re pretty good with a vibroknife right?”

“So-so, I suppose. Better than you are anyways,” he answered without looking up.

“I know that - I was wondering if you’d be open to a trade. I help you, you help me.”

He set the datapad down finally and narrowed his gaze at her instead of the words detailing etiquette. (No wonder he looked like he wanted to stab his eyes out, that was not the topic she’d offer to tutor him in that wasn’t her forte.) The expression was his calculating one that was accessing whether she was an enemy or not, the one that he usually hid behind a smile but had since stopped bothering to hide from her.

“You’re a sniper, you don’t need to be good at knife work.”

“I’m a female alien agent, and I can pretty up well enough, you know exactly what my handlers will use me for,” her tone was flat - if the entire job description was just shooting people she’d be fine but she wasn’t sure what to think of the seduction games. “Not all my targets will be kept at a scope’s distance from me.”

She could see him debate it before nodding, “And you want me to drill with you to improve your knife work, okay. I can do that. But what am I getting out of this, Red?”

Atin grinned - somehow she doubted even a lifetime in Imperial Intelligence would cure Aydin Olasee of being the sort of person that just cared. Try as he might to play up the role of uncouth and selfish he’d do better here in a place that gave him a purpose that he could justify as helping people - serving something larger than himself - than he ever would have as a criminal.

“You need help with your accents, Kurshi. I’ll help you get the Kaasi one down and learn to switch easier.”

“...alright, you have a deal - but one more condition.”

“What?”

“Why Kurshi of all nicknames?”

She gave a slight shrug, “Seemed like a good idea at the time, I mean you’re kinda tall and you’re green. I thought that was kind of obvious. And yes I will still ‘accidentally’ shoot you if you start making wood jokes.”

He seemed to consider it, “Well then, go get changed and we can make like a me and leaf.”

She groaned but stood, going to get her practice gear - if he was going to start making jokes like that at least the motivation to try to stab him would be easy to find.

[aly-the-writer]

I commissioned this piece as my new avatar from the VERY talented @jonette-art.  Please go check out her blog and art!

(Also, I’m sorry for the weird spots, on Dak’s back and Aydin’s elbow, if someone has any advice on how to actually take pictures of art pieces let me know. I’ll update with a better pic if I manage to take one.)

These two are Jedi Knight Dak Izma and his future husband the Imperial Agent, Aydin Olasee.

[aly-the-writer]

Red & Green

More Aydin Olasee | More Atin Col | Ao3

The story of  how two Imperial Intelligence cadets - Aydin Olasee and Atin Col - end up meeting for the first time.

I’d like to write more about the “Black Dogs” training squad, potentially with cameos from other people’s agents. Keeping in mind I have no military background so all of this may not make any sense to anyone who actually does.

The other recruits cleared out, leaving the figure on the ground. Four strong military type guys against one wasn’t really a fair fight. She was curious who had managed to offend enough people on the first night to end up the target of their wrath.

The figure on the ground shifted slowly, careful of bruised ribs and potential broken bones to prop himself against the wall, bright red eyes narrowing as he spotted her approach.

The eyes were framed with diamond-like tattoos, a triangle below each eye, and a more complicated design on his forehead. His skin the bright green with yellow undertones. A Mirialan in the grey-and-black uniform of a cadet, his badge indicating that he was training as an Imperial Intelligence operative. Squad assignment Black Dogs.

“You here to get your shot in?” not the clipped Kaasi accent, instead it was Outer Rim. If she’d had to guess it was probably Rishi but with a bit of influence from other parts of neutral space.

“Was actually just seeing if you were still alive, di’kut,” she snorted, lowering herself to sit on her haunches at eye-level with the injured man.

His skin already taking a brown-orange tone where he was bruised. An older bruise, nearly completely healed, showed a black eye. And she could see that his hands still had the faint lines of recently repaired injuries. Hands were easy to work over during torture – a lot of nerve endings and people wanted to keep the use of them.

A brow over the crimson-bright eyes arched, “Well…I probably deserve that,” he admitted wryly. “So, you’re a stray mutt too?”

“So everyone knows that Black Dog Squad’s the ‘misfits’ already,” she said, edging closer carefully, keeping an eye on the guy’s reactions. He was older than her, nineteen to her seventeen if he had to guess (though she’d never known a Mirialan in person so she wasn’t certain).

“Bottom of the food chain,” he laughed and winced - the sound choking into a sharp hiss. “They rebroke my rib, I think.”

“C’mon, I’ll get you to the med center, the droid can patch you back up,” she said, moving to position herself to help her injured squad mate to his feet and support his weight. Force damn him – he was tall. An inch or two over six foot put him well above her own five-two.

The droid at the center tsked as they came in.

“Cadet Olasee, you were informed fighting was completely prohibited, were you not?” it asked in a tone that managed to somehow be both disapproving and monotone as it whirled around, gathering supplies.

“Hey now, I didn’t fight,” he grumbled as the droid drew the privacy curtain closed and got to work. “I fell.”

With help into fists several times, the red haired Zabrak crossed her arms as she stood by the door waiting for her squad mate. They’d already taken exception to him, she had a lower profile, was Imperial born and probably less likely to say something smart that riled the human cadets into violence.

It was twenty minutes later that he came around the curtain, buttoning his dirty uniform back up and froze seeing her.

“I wanted to be sure you got back to the barracks without further incident,” she replied. “Classes don’t start until tomorrow but regulation is that cadets are supposed to be paired. It seemed like a good habit to get into.”

He tilted his head to the side and then gave an easy shrug, a flirty grin sliding into place, although the slight tenseness in his posture suggested he was far less relaxed about her presence than he wanted to give off, “Alright, Red, that’s fine by me.”

“My name’s not ‘Red’,” she sighed.

If he was going to give her a nickname, it could at least be something less obvious that. Her bright red hair was the first feature noticed about her usually – followed by comments about her horns, eyes and tattoos in that order. She was a pale Zabrak rather than the red-variety that was more usual in Imperial space, but that would be an advantage when it came to infiltrating the Republic.

“Well then – what do I call you?”

“Cadet Col when we’re on duty, ‘Atin’ is my first name though.”

“Mmh. I’m Aydin, I guess.”

“New name?”

“Appropriate for a new life,” he replied. “How could you tell?”

“You don’t respond to ‘Olasee’ very quickly, and you don’t say ‘Aydin’ like it belongs to you either. Plus there’s a story when you go from torture in an imperial prison –Sith, probably – to being a cadet here.”

“I could just be slow.”

“You’d still be in prison – or dead – if that were true. You impressed someone,” she flashed him a grin as they reached the smallest, dingiest of the squad barracks. “And here we are.”

Someone had helpfully crossed out the sign on the door which labeled their Squad number and painted over in red ‘Stray Dogs��. It was going to be a long two years if they couldn’t earn the respect of the other training units.

“Goodnight, Red,” he grinned down at her noticing where her gaze was.

“Welcome to the Empire, Kurshi,” she replied – if she was going to get stuck with a stupid nickname, so would he

[aly-the-writer]

While someone’s crying - Aydin/Dak

Very angsty on this one. There’s some potentially triggering content in this one, so please read with caution. That’s why there’s no story preview over the cut on this one.

It’s set afew hours after Aydin’s first encounter with Kothe and his team on Nar Shaddaa.

Leashed

The agent closed his eyes, leaninghis head against his palm as he waited for the next wave of sickening vertigoto finish crashing over him. Infiltrate the SIS posing as a double agent, itshould’ve been a simple job for a Cipher even the youngest and most inexperiencedone in the service. Ardun Kothe’s biggest danger was supposed to be that he hadthe Force and he’d already directly defied Jadus, what could a washed up Jedido that a Sith hadn’t already tried?

Except something had gone wrong. TheSIS had somehow put some kind of brainwashing in his mind…Only the SIS couldn’thave done this – they were using it but brain washing, neural programming…thatwas Imperial.

Imperial Intelligence had put aleash on their rabid alien dog and now it was going to strangle him. He let outa choked laugh and grabbed the next drink to toss it back.

The other patrons at the run downcantina had already drifted away to give him space – Aydin was well armed, andnot in the right mind. It wasn’t someone that anyone in the seedy Nar Shaddaajoint was keen to tangle with when it didn’t seem like the Mirialan had his owncontinued survival on his mind. The bar tender was keeping a wary eye on himand kept the drinks coming long as Aydin was paying.

He was barely paying attention tohis surroundings anymore when a hand reached into his vision to take the glass fromhis fingers.

The agent started, going for hisgun, but red eyes were glaring at a familiar pale haired Jedi. How had theZabrak even found him in the twisted, dark allies of this filthy city planet?Or was he really that desperate for some sort of safety his mind was conjuringthe man up?

“C’mon, let’s get you somewhere tolay down,” the green eyed man smiled to him, hooking his arm around Aydin’swaist when he saw the much taller man was unsteady on his feet.

Well it probably wasn’t ahallucination if it could support his weight. That or he was going to wake upin a few hours missing organs. Right now though, he wasn’t really sure he couldcare.

“Force, you’re heavy,” the Jedi grumbledunder his breath as he hauled Aydin through the streets to a better sectorwhere he got them a room and managed to get the other into a bed with minimaltrouble. (Although why Aydin seemed convinced he was a hallucination was alittle worrying, had he been dosed with something? He wasn’t usually this unwieldya drunk either.)

The timing to getting into the roomwas good as Aydin bolted for the refresher soon as they were in the door andunceremoniously emptied the contents of his stomach while Dak waited on theother side of the door debating if he should attempt to undo the lock mechanismwith the Force or not.

Running water and the sound of the agentrinsing his mouth convinced the Jedi he could move away.

Dak breathed out a sigh before heordered food – mostly for himself, unsure if even Aydin’s indomitable appetitecould survive the way the other felt – while waiting for the other to reappear,keeping an ear out for any trouble.

Aydin didn’t take long to draghimself to the main room, collapsing on the bed, unusually quiet and astrangely flat expression on his face. Still he didn’t have the sparkly sharp-edgedwrongness that spice addicts had around them when he tried to feel them throughthe force.

“How’d you even find me?” the spyasked at last – seeming to settle on an important question.

The green eyes darted away from him– not meeting the crimson gaze as he answered, “The Force. About three hours agoI sensed something happen…” he trailed over, the tenseness in his shouldersbuilding, the way that he’d seen it develop when he watched Dak on holo with aJedi Master. “You were in pain or scared or something…and there’s something wrong. I can feel it but…”the Jedi shrugged helplessly.

Aydin’s throat tightened, as he satup on bed, and stared at the Jedi who was clearly frustrated with his owninability to identify what was wrong.

“There’s…” something wrong – I’m being controlled.

His head ached suddenly, the wordscut off and died in his throat. Dak knew he was in trouble, wanted to help evenand he couldn’t tell his stupid fool of a Jedi lover what was wrong.

“Fuck!” he spat, slamming his fistinto his thigh, tears gathering in his eyes. “Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” He hithis leg with each repetition, hating his body – his mind – for the betrayal itwas subjecting him to.

Dak’s hand around his wrist yankedhis hand away so he couldn’t keep doing so.

“Aydin, Aydin! Stop!” the Jedipractically shouted, worry written in every line of his being. Aydin’s own fearreflected in his gaze.

All the spy could do though wasbreak – sobbing as tears ran down his face. He was broken, lost, a puppet thatwould be tossed aside the moment his use expired. He couldn’t even tell the manhe was in love with what was wrong.

Arms wrapped tight around him as Dakpulled him into a close hug, not saying anything.

Aydin closed his eyes and pressedhis forehead into the Jedi’s collar-bone, tears running down his cheeks as hecried, wishing he could fix why or stop and pretend things were okay or justreassure Dak that he didn’t have to worry.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t want to lie to Dak. Thestupidly warm and friendly Jedi had earned his trust months ago but he stillcouldn’t tell him anything because Ardun Kothe had forbidden him from talkingabout the programming.

Dak maneuvered them both into amore comfortable position, not letting Aydin out of his hold even when thetears dried up. His saber-calloused fingers soothing as they stroked throughthe fine black hair or across his shoulders.

“I’m here,” was all the Jedi offered- no questions, no pity, just the comfort of his presence and the safety of hiscompany. Aydin, for his part, pretended not to notice the way those hands trembledslightly.

He closed his eyes, listening toDak’s breathing and heartbeat as the sobs died into the choked and shudderybreaths that followed such an outburst.

Exhausted, he slept.

[aly-the-writer]

☏ What letter would the OC write their LI if the LI was the one who became the Outlander after Marr’s ship is destroyed? for either Dak/Aydin or Aydin/ Dak

Well, because I like tearing my heart out and because I couldn’t decide you happen to get both. I’m tucking Aydin’s under the cut because of his language.

More Dak | More Aydin | My Ao3

To: Nyl Ellodai

From: Dak Izma

Subject: Where are you?

The Jedi tried to teach me that “There is no Death, there is the Force.”

I told you once thatthat wasn’t what I believed – but it’s been a year since you disappeared, andsometimes I wish it was what I believed. You disappeared. Marr died. Something happened with Vitiate andZakuul attacked claiming their Emperor had been assassinated.

Sometimes when I sleep I think I sense you out there, beyondthe front lines where I can’t reach but that’s just my imagination isn’t it? You’regone and I never did get to give you your ring. Instead I wear it next to theone that you gave me on Rishi.

I’m tired Aydin. And I miss you.

Please, if by some miracle you’re still alive please comeback to me. I need you.

I love you.

To: Dak Izma

From: Aydin Olasee

Subject: No.

Dak you god damned idiot, where the kriffing hell are you?You are not doing this to me again! I toldyou not to go hunting the Emperor again. Now look at this mess. You went anddisappeared again.

Everyone keeps saying you and Marr died on that scrap pile ofhis. I won’t believe it. Not until you show up in front of me as a glowy-ass Forcespirit.

I’m not in denial, you just can’t be dead. Not aftereverything.

I know this isn’t it. I married you to spend the rest of mylife with you – you don’t get to bail this early on just because your stupidJedi compulsion to save the galaxy got you tangled up in another mess.

You. Are. Not. Dead. Got it? Not dead.

I’m coming to find you so just hang on, okay?

[aly-the-writer]

Aly’s Fic Masterlist

My AO3 || My Askbox (I accept random prompts!)

Most links will direct to Archive of Our Own rather than Tumblr.

I have not included links to projects that I have currently abandoned but they may still be found on my Ao3 Account

If you’re looking for stories with a specific character of mine they can be found by checking the respective “OC: Their Name” tag in the search function of my blog.

Dragon Age

Origins

Frost Flowers (Rated Mature; Will (probably) become Explicit)

66268 Words to Date

28/74 Chapters Complete

Falcon Surana/Zevran Arainai centric

Inspired by @khirsahle‘s Fire, Walk     with Me and Voice-Verse

Series: Two Wardens & a Lady

http://archiveofourown.org/series/691803

11 Works

27861 Words to Date

Fen Mahariel/Morrigan, Alistair/Eveline Cousland, Zevran Arainai/Falcon Surana

Name of a Friend

782 Words

Dog & Wardens (various)

The Early Impressions

3918 Words

Alistair/Eveline Cousland, Zevran/Falcon Surana, Fen     Mahariel/Morrigan

Dragon Age II

Invasion

366 Words

Fenris/Marian Hawke

Safe

·       654 Words

·       Fenris/Marian Hawke

Cold Without You

·       503 Words

·       Anders/Garrett Hawke

Inquisition

In a Pique

183 Words

Cullen/Lark Trevelyan and an appearance by a Purple!Garrett Hawke

Trust

686 Words

Cullen/Lark Trevelyan

Mark of a Mage

463 Words

Cullen/Lark Trevelyan

Quiet Morning

519 Words

Dorian Pavus/Taralyn Lavellan

The Dragon’s Heart

·       Dorian Pavus/Taralyn Lavellan

·       Chapter 1 (Tumblr)

·       3366 Words (to date)

·       4/10 Chapters complete

The Long Hours (written for @latefortevinter)

·       On Tumblr

·       2793 Words

·       Dorian Pavus/Vaxus Trevelyan

Haleir’s Inquisition

·       Various Ficlets (located on Tumblr)

·       Iron Bull/Haleir Lavellan

Lark’s Inquisition

·       Various ficlets (located on Tumblr)

·       Cullen Rutherford/Lark Trevelyan

 Mass Effect

Trilogy

A Moment Stolen

·       Kaidan Alenko/John Shepherd

·       274 Words

A Good Look

·       Kaidan Alenko/John Shepherd, John Shepherd & Jack

·       179 Words

Andromeda

Old Friendships & New

·       Gen-fic - Reyes Vidal, EDI, SAM

·       917 Words

Snowflakes

·       Jaal Amra Darav/Sara Ryder (Background Reyes Vidal/Scott Ryder)

·       308 Words

The Sweater

·       Reyes Vidal/Scott Ryder

·       512 Words

Sweet Potatoes

·       Reyes Vidal/Scott Ryder

·       481 Words

Star Wars

 The Old Republic

Of Ghosts

5503 Words

Theron Shan/Sith Inquisitor (Tusin Shade)

Starbound (Rated Mature for potential future content)

Currently on Hiatus while I figure out how “Plots”     function

2570 Words to Date

2 Chapters of ?? Complete

Theron Shan/Sith Inquisitor (Tusin Shade)

The Stars May Burn (One-Shot Collection) !NSFW Works Included!

19029 Words to Date

22 Stories

Pairings Included Are: Malavai Quinn/Female Sith     Warrior (Kassandey Videti), Female Smuggler (Claribel Fyre)/Male Bounty     Hunter (Izar Nuncio), Theron Shan/Male Sith Inquisitor (Tusin Shade), Aric     Jorgan/Female Trooper (Juvel Korrei), Male Imperial Agent (Aydin     Olasee)/Male Jedi Knight (Dak Izma)

Stray Dogs Squad

Imperial Intelligence Themed One-Shot Collection

1402 Words to Date

2 Stories to Date

What Reflects in Ripples

1630 Words

Arcann/Male Jedi Consular (Valirek Silver)

Perhaps, a Chance

1389 Words

Male Imperial Agent (Aydin Olasee)/Male Jedi Knight     (Dak Izma)

With Friends Like These

483 Words

Male Imperial Agent (Aydin Olasee) Generic

I Have Your Back (Adult Content)

·       638 Words

·       Male Smuggler (Locke Dalsa) & Female Smuggler (Claribel Fyre)

The Color Gold (NSFW! – Rated E)

·       3398 Words

·       Arcann/Male Jedi Consular (Valirek Silver)

Missed

·       434 Words

·       Arcann/Male Jedi Consular (Valirek Silver)

Others (Mostly Anime)

Dark Eciture: Heritage

Fairy Tail

772 Words

Ever is the Thunder Legion’s Baby Sis

Fairy Tail

1100 Words

Evergreen/Elfman Strauss (Laxus Dreyer/Freed Justine     pairing in background)

Very Lame

Attack on Titan

286 Words

Krista Lenz/Ymir

[aly-the-writer]

Jedi Soup

Ao3 | More Tusin Shade

Prompt: OC introducing their romantic interest to a food specific to their home planet for Tusin/Theron as requested by DarthYaoi.

Tusin ran a hand back through his hair, nodding absently as he listened to Lana catching him up to speed on what had been going on during his away mission.

He’d gotten off the shuttle expecting Theron to be there – Theron was always the one who met him when he returned to base. Not normally alone but he was always there. Still Lana hadn’t said something was wrong…

“He’s fine,” the blond commented, at last realizing why the other Sith hadn’t paid attention to her. “Just a cold, Commander. The infirmary gave him a shot, if he rests then he will be better in a day or two.”

She watched as the gold eyes studied her, they were at the turn that the Commander would have to take to get to his room or the lift to the residential level. She’d seen that look before – both Theron and Tusin wore it when they were struggling with their desire to be with the other and their workaholic tendencies.

“I think he ended up in your quarters after Master Silver threatened to find an ‘alternative means’ of making sure he rested as required,” Lana added.

The grin – quickly hidden – was the only sign of amusement that came from the thought of the Barsen’thor of all people threatening violence on another.

“Then you don’t need me for anything tonight?”

There was a small mountain of paperwork and reports to finalize the details on but they could all be put off for at least one night. Still she dragged out answering, as if having to contemplate, until the Pureblood’s eyebrow protrusions had lifted up like wings – they always made his expressions over emphasized to the point where incredulity looked slightly ridiculous on his face.

“Nothing for tonight, Commander,” she relented at last. “Take care you don’t get sick, I can’t run this Alliance by myself.”

“Wait, so that’s not what you’re doing already?” he joked, beginning to walk down the hall.

She waved him off and headed towards the lift to go to her own private quarters. She had a nice bottle of wine she’d been saving for a quiet evening.

Tusin, meanwhile, let himself into his quarters as quietly as he could. The room was mostly dark, the blankets huddled into pile on the center of the bed while Theron was still asleep, his arms wrapped tightly around and his face tucked against the pillow that Tusin usually used. He looked entirely worn out even asleep, his mouth open so he could try to breath with his breath snuffled from the congested sinuses. The brown hair pressed completely flat without any of the usual styling done to it.

He knew Theron would never appreciate the thought but Tusin thought he looked rather cute. He leaned over and kissed the other man’s temple.

Gold-hazel eyes blinked blurrily up at him. “When’d you get back?” his voice a little hoarse as he sat up.

“Just now,” he smiled softly. “I understand you’ve been exhausting our Jedi’s inexhaustible well of patience. Have you eaten at all?” he said, picking up the bottle of pills on the table that Theron went to reach for to read the label.

“Not been hungry,” the spy muttered, flopping back onto the pillows as he watched Tusin – wondering for a moment if the Sith Lord planned on chasing him back to his own room. He was gross and miserable three days into the cold – definitely not something anyone would want to deal with after just returning from wading through a factory of Skytroopers with Havoc Squad.

“You need to eat - especially since all you do is survive off caff and prepackaged food usually. Besides, this says you need to take it with warm food. When’s your next dose supposed to be?”

“Like your diet’s any better,” Theron muttered sitting up a little to squint at the chronometer (though he could’ve just as easily checked the time with his implants), “Hour, hour-half.”

“Anything you want?”

“Nothing.”

“Alright. Go back to sleep for a bit longer, love,” he stroked Theron’s hair, secretly admiring the texture of it sans hair-product beneath his fingers.

Once the spy had muttered a half-hearted protest and retreated back into his cocoon of blankets Tusin got up, slipping from his rooms in thought. Theron was correct, Tusin’s diet was rarely any better. Ration bars or eating at the cantina was fairly common when he remembered to take a break long enough to eat.

Still he needed to find something that Theron would probably eat without much protest – maybe something that reminded him of childhood? He’d been raised by Jedi and there was at least one Jedi that cooked around the base.

Jedi Knight Dak Izma – the man who had struck the blow that freed the Sith Empire from the Emperor’s control – was a short, friendly blond Zabrak with bright green eyes that drew plenty of attention. He was also friendly enough with Theron that he might agree to help out

The residential levels had several communal kitchens, and it was easy to find the one that they’d occupied. The Jedi he was looking for was wrapped up in his husband’s arms, getting a kiss. The Mirialan agent who’d once been called Cipher Nine but now went by Aydin Olasee was the first to notice and smiled at him over the shorter man’s head as he straightened.

“Commander, what can we do for you?” the clipped Kaasi accent was the one most common among Imperial Intelligence operatives (and it occurred to Tusin then that perhaps they were all trained to use it) that was obviously false in Aydin as he opted to use different accents to suit his mood.

“Actually I was wondering if Dak knew how to make Jedi so- uh, rootleaf stew.”

‘Jedi Soup’ was the name that Imperials gave the very plain though healthy meal.

“Rootleaf stew?” Dak echoed, exchanging a look with Aydin. “I mean, yeah, I can make it. Just didn’t think it was something anyone ate if they didn’t grow up in the Order.”

“Theron still down for the count?” the spy asked. Theron was a favorite target of his practical jokes – a bit of rivalry left over from when they’d been the best spies on their respective sides of the war.

“Yes, and he doesn’t seem to be hungry. I thought that something he grew up on with would help and I know he was raised by Jedi…”

Aydin winced and looked at Dak, almost pleadingly.

The Zabrak met his gaze apologetically, “Alright, I’ll make some.”

Aydin groaned, pretending to clasp his chest and stagger against the counter, “My nerf burgers.”

“I’ll make them for you tomorrow,” the Jedi smiled over, watching his boyfriend’s dramatic ‘death’ as he crumpled to the floor.

“Liiiiessssss,” the Mirialan hissed dramatically before falling still.

Tusin hid a smile behind his hand, Aydin was one of the more troublesome members of the Alliance. Primarily because his fondness for practical jokes meant everyone from Lana to Aric Jorgan was ready to shoot the man (with the exception of the Jedi he was married to) but he was still one of the best agents they had on staff.

Dak meanwhile had opened the refrigerator unit that was labeled ‘Izma & Green Bean’.

“Does it taste that bad?” Tusin asked the agent who was climbing back to his feet following his performance.

“Yes.”

“No it doesn’t,” Dak said, sorting out his ingredients. “It’s very simple, too simple for Aydin’s tastes.”

Despite his disagreement regarding the meal choice for that night the Mirialan was on his feet helping in an easy rhythm with the other man – washing and cutting ingredients or measuring things out at the Zabrak’s request. For his part Dak moved around the kitchen with a sort of confidence that the Jedi usually lacked when off the battlefield, only he wasn’t usually smiling broadly or comparing vegetables to his husband’s skin tone when he fought.

Tusin took a seat to watch the pair – wondering if he should offer to help considering it was a request for his lover that they were making. Cooking was an art form that he’d never quite gotten the hold of – though the Pureblood admired anyone who managed it and even with the laughter and joking (or maybe because of it) this particular couple made it look a bit like a dance.

It wouldn’t take the ability to read their connection through the Force to see that the two were close – let alone to see how obviously in love the pair was. How had they managed to keep it unknown for as long as they had managed?

“How does the Hero of Tython end up married to the Imperial Ghost, anyways?” he asked curiously.

“You meet all sorts in cantinas in Nar Shaddaa,” Dak laughed softly glancing over. “Terrible pick-ups, cheap drinks, and bad decisions pretty much sums us up back then.”

“You’re forgetting that we’re devastatingly handsome as well as being complete messes,” Aydin smirked, leaning down to peck Dak’s lips before going to run the dishes they were done with through the wash

Theron cracked an eye open as the door to the room opened again. He hadn’t heard Tusin leave, but he was exhausted and it was embarrassingly difficult to fall asleep without the other man in the bed. Although, he felt that he might be granted some forgiveness considering that anyone would fret over their lover being on a battlefield.

It’d been easier to sleep knowing that Tusin was back on the base, safe and sound.

Balanced on one hand the Sith Pureblood carried in a tray laden with bowls, mug and silverware, which he set on one of the tables in the room, shoving some of his papers and datapads back into a pile to clear the space to do so.

The smell of food – something familiar – reached Theron’s nose from where he was watching the scene from his blanket cave and made his stomach grumble loudly.

“Wasat?” he asked, starting to sit up but still mostly muffled by bedding.

It sort of smelled like rootleaf but no way Tusin would make that – actually there was no way the Sith would make anything. The Commander was a disaster in the kitchen and Lana had explicitly forbidden him from attempting to cook again.

“I didn’t make it,” the alien promised, offering him a bowl. “I may owe Agent Olasee an apology, he seemed to be rather saddened by the loss of his nerf-burgers.”

Theron grinned despite himself – Aydin suffering in petty ways always made him smile.  “I’m sure all this,” he waved his hand at his face. “Is somehow his fault anyways.”

“Doubtful,” Tusin mused, setting a mug at Theron’s elbow. Tea of some sort, a deep crimson-black color to it, probably something the Sith had brewed him. Before sitting down with his own bowl and mug. “But he certainly owes you for some of the other things he’s done.”

“Won’t disagree there. Where does he even find time to compose poetry anyways?” he muttered, tasting the bowl’s contents. Dak’s version of the recipe had a Dantooine flare, probably using iriaz broth as a base instead of mushrooms like Master Zho had used. Still it was delicious – and the familiar taste through the deadened taste-buds that came with sickness was a comfort.

“I assumed that he pulled it off the Holonet,” Tusin was prodding his bowl carefully examining the ingredients that had gone into the stew.

“It’s good,” Theron pointed his spoon at the Sith’s bowl. “And no, he writes them. I know he composes terrible poetry for Dak when they practice.”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified,” the Sith mused before finally tasting the meal. It actually was good. As simple a flavor as promised, which would have likely made it easier to convince a variety of younglings across species to eat it with little fuss. Though he could see someone who preferred lots of flavor in everything – like Aydin did – would dislike the dish.

He blinked up noticing that Theron was staring at him.

“Something wrong?”

“Nope,” he smiled – stuffy and still feeling achy and miserable, but he had someone who had gone out of his way to care about that. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Theron. Now eat so you can take your medicine,” the Sith smiled back affectionately.